These Are The Days
by AbbyGirl3476
Summary: Abby, the baby ... and oh yeah, Luka, too. Ever wonder what happens when the episode ends? Or before it begins? Well, here's one version of what we didn't see.
1. Awakening

_Title: These Are The Days_

_Author: AbbyGirl3476 _

_Summary: Remember 12.10, All About Christmas Eve? Well, here's my take on what we didn't see._

_Rating: R, because I never know what I'm going to say._

Spoilers: Nope, not unless you haven't seen season 12. So I won't give you any spoilers, and please don't give me any either.

_Author's Note: So I wrote this a while ago, and have been debating whether or not to post it since then. I wasn't going to, but if my memory is correct, this is the anniversary of the very first thing I ever posted at so it seemed a fitting way to celebrate. But this is the first thing I'm posting under this new penname … and anyone who knows my old penname will understand the reason for the change. By the way, the first person to figure out my original penname wins a prize. But back to this story … this is meant to be the first installment in a story where each chapter is based, somewhat, on an actual episode. The chapters will probably be mainly post-eps, but not always, as you'll see in this chapter. I like to think of it as the story of what we didn't see. Or my take on it, anyway. As I said, this is meant to be the first chapter, but whether or not this goes any further will probably depend on part in the kind of response I get. So if you like it and would like to read more … be sure to review. If you have constructive criticism or suggestions … be sure to review. If you don't like it … stop reading. No need to bash it just for fun. If you don't agree with my take on things, well, you can always write your own -- this one is mine. And I'm always looking for a few good editors so if anyone is interested e-mail or IM me on AIM (AbbyGirl3476) … and feel free to IM or e-mail me if you just want to chat about the fic, the show, life in general. But please, no spoilers. Thanks. Oh, and the song lyrics belong to the Van Morrison song from which this story gets its name. The ER dialogue belongs to the powers that be at ER. I hope no one minds me borrowing their words. _

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_**These Are The Days**_

"_These are the days now that we must savor … and we must enjoy as we can … these are the days that will last forever … you've got to hold them in your heart"_

_Chapter 1: Awakening_

"Wake up, Abby." It can't possibly be morning already. I crack open one leaden eyelid just far enough to confirm, much to my dismay, that there really is light streaming in from the windows. I groan and burrow a little deeper under the covers, not yet ready to face the day. "Aaabby …" I feel his lips brush lightly against my temple. I smile, but make no move to get out of my cocoon. He kisses my cheek before moving closer to my ear where he whispers, "Get up, sleepyhead." It's gonna take a little more than that to get me moving. Unfortunately, he's figured that out.

"Hey!" I shriek as the covers are yanked off me unceremoniously, plunging me naked and shivering into a cold Chicago morning. "Luka! It's freezing in here!" I sit up and grab for the blanket, yanking it away from him and pulling it up to my shoulders.

"Well, maybe if you weren't naked …" He gives me an evocative grin that is becoming very familiar to me.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't taken off all my clothes …"

"I didn't take off all your clothes." As if he's so scandalized at the thought. "You did."

"No, I didn't."

Now he's laughing at me. "Don't you remember? Last night? You said you wanted to dance for me."

"I don't dance."

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't so much dancing as it was stripping."

"Luka."

"Still, I wasn't the one who took off your clothes."

I open my mouth to protest, but think better of it and clamp it shut instead. What could I say anyway? When he's right, he's right.

"You better get moving," he advises me, with a nod toward the clock. "You wouldn't want to be late. After all, I hear that new boss of yours is a real hard ass."

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if he's fishing for compliments … either professional or personal. I decide it's best not to take the bait either way. "You know, you could have woken me up sooner," I say instead, noticing that he's already showered and dressed for work. "You've obviously been awake for a while."

"I tried. Several times, in fact. But you were … uh, dead to the world. That alarm was going off right in your ear, and you didn't even budge. I finally gave up and showered without you. I thought I'd give you a little more time to sleep since you were so tired."

"Well, someone kept me up half the night," I say with a yawn.

"I think it was the other around, Abby."

I'm not gonna get into that argument so I turn my back to him, flopping back down on the pillow.

"Oh, no you don't," he says, pulling the blankets away again. "It's time to get up. Come on, Abby, it's Christmas Eve." I look over my shoulder at him, to see his big, goofy grin. "Aren't you excited?"

"Not especially."

"Abby. Where's your Christmas spirit? It's supposed to be fun. You know, tidings of comfort and joy. Goodwill toward man. That sort of thing."

"Uh … huh. And this is all happening tomorrow, huh?" Now it's not like I didn't know that Christmas was coming. You can hardly miss it. What with the halls of the ER being decked, the Christmas carols piped into the Jumbo Mart, and one of those bell ringing Santas on every corner, you'd have to be dead not to realize that the Christmas season is upon us. The problem is, I didn't exactly realize that Christmas was tomorrow. Maybe I should have done some Christmas shopping or sent out some Christmas cards. At least I have a tree. Of course, that's only because Luka showed up with it last week. So holiday cheer isn't a strong point of mine, oh well. I can't believe that it's already Christmas Eve. How did that happen? And why do I find the thought faintly disturbing? It's not the lack of gifts or cards -- that's fairly standard for me, at least these past couple of years. No, it's more about the fact that this month seems to have passed me by in a complete whirlwind. It seems like just yesterday that Luka and I were sitting at Neela's wedding reception, playing at being just friends. And look at us now. But that's a _good_ thing, so what is this nagging bothersome thought that's swimming around in my subconscious that I can't quite seem to put a finger on?

"Actually, it's starting today," Luka says, pulling me away from that elusive idea I was trying to pin down.

"Huh?"

"The ER Christmas party, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Of course, I did pretty much forget, but I wouldn't tell him that. He seems so happy, I don't want to burst his bubble. "I guess you're right … I better start getting ready for the big day."

I reluctantly get out of bed, trying my best to ignore the slight dizziness that I feel when I stand up.

"Good, you go get ready, and I'll go start some coffee." I smile and then snag his robe and head for the bathroom. I turn on the shower first thing, hoping that the water will warm up by the time I'm ready to get in. I jump a little when I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye, as he lounges against the doorjamb. Is he planning to watch my morning ambulations?

"I thought you went to make coffee."

He doesn't respond to that, but just says, "I can't believe tomorrow is Christmas, can you?"

"Huh? What?" I ask, as I can't seem to keep a train of thought this morning.

"It's just … what's the saying? Tempes fugit … uh, time flies …"

"When you're having fun?" I supply.

"Yeah, that's it," He says, with a smile. "I just don't know where the time's gone, you know?" he asks, echoing my own thoughts. "Strange to think it's already Christmas Eve. "

"Yeah," I say, hoping I don't sound too distracted. "I think I completely lost track of time this month." December 24th already. We're more than three weeks into December already and --

"Well, we've been having fun," he points out. "Hard to imagine that December is almost over … that _this year_ is almost over. In a week, it'll be a whole new year." He closes the gap between us and pulls me into a hug. "A new year … new beginnings …" I can hear the smile as he shares his musings with me. I'm experiencing some musings of my own, but I think it's best not to share those just yet.

"You gonna make that coffee or what?" I ask, pulling my head from his chest and looking up at him.

He laughs a little and smiles down at me. "Yeah, I'll make you your coffee." He drops a kiss on the top of my head before turning and leaving the bathroom. He stops a few feet away, and turns back to look at me, just standing there, staring after him. He wags his finger at me and uses his best disapproving tone to say, "You better hurry, you're late."

'You don't know how right you are, Luka,' I can't help thinking to myself. But I just smile and shut the door before turning to look in the mirror. I slip first one arm out of the robe and then the other , letting it fall to the floor. I step back and study my reflection in the mirror, looking for any subtle signs, any changes to my body. I do a little poking and prodding, for all the good it does me. When I run my hand over my belly, it's not exactly flat, but it doesn't feel any rounder than usual. Well, maybe a little bit, but I can probably thank a constant round of Christmas cookies at the admit desk for that. That's dumb anyway, I chide myself , it would be too soon to expect to find any kind of roundness. A widening of the waist maybe. Does my waist look wider? Maybe. Tough to tell. My pants still fit … well, my fat pants, anyway … so there can't have been too much change. I sigh and continue scrutinizing myself in the mirror. I consider my breasts, which, I'm sure, have not been affected one way or the other by the holiday treats. Maybe they seem swollen, fuller. Maybe the nipples and areola seem a little darker. Maybe I'm just imagining things. But I'm not imaging the tenderness. My breasts are definitely tender, but that could just be PMS.

PMS? Who am I kidding? My period's not due. It's overdue. _Way_ overdue. Late? Yeah, I'm late. Very late. And not just for work. How could I have not noticed this sooner? Well, losing complete track of time this month probably had something to do with it. It's not like I don't have occasion to write the date at work often enough, but somehow it just never sunk in how fast this month was slipping away. And somehow, until this morning, it didn't sink in that what should have already arrived this month still has yet to start as the month is coming to an end. And now that I'm thinking about it, it occurs to me that the details of last month are a little sketchy, too. The fact that I can't remember can't be a good sign. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing I ought to forget. Of course, I have been a little preoccupied. My mind has been on other things. Or one thing in particular … and he's downstairs making me coffee that I don't even want. I've been so wrapped up in what's been happening with Luka and I, just trying to enjoy it, that I think my head's been stuck in the clouds. I guess that's all over now. I should have known. It's been too good to last … too much fun … too easy … too comfortable … and I've been too happy. With Luka. It's been such a shock, but such a wonderful surprise. And now … maybe there's another surprise in store me. But I don't know how wonderful it'll be. Why now? God, if I'm right about this, it's gonna change everything. Maybe ruin everything. No more fun and games, it's gonna get serious in a major way. But maybe … maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it's nothing. I sigh yet again, knowing what I need to do. I bend over to retrieve the discarded robe, slip it back on and turn off the shower. This isn't something that can wait. I need to know now.

"That was fast," Luka says, as I hurry down the stairs, looking around for my bag and my coat. "The coffee's not even done."

"Yeah, I changed my mind about the shower," I explain. His already puzzled look turns to one that's closer to perplexed, like maybe he thinks I've adopted a new personal hygiene routine that involves showing up to work unwashed and stinky. "I mean, I changed my mind about showering here. I'm gonna go home." He's still staring at me, looking confused. "You know, to my apartment. I'll shower there."

"Why?"

"Why? Uh, because, in general, I think it's a good idea to start the day off clean?"

"No, I mean why are you going home?"

"I don't know, Luka … clean underwear? Clothes that I wasn't wearing yesterday? Little things like that."

"I don't know why you don't just leave some things here," he suggests. Again.

"Uh … I don't know … because … then I wouldn't have any underwear at home?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "Well, I don't own that much underwear. Respectable underwear, anyway."

"Who cares if it's respectable? And you know, you could buy more underwear, Abby. Or maybe …" He moves over to stand in front of me, then reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe Santa will leave some in your stocking."

"I don't have a stocking."

"Then maybe he'll leave some in your shoe."

"Santa Claus is going to leave _underwear_ in my _shoe_?" I can't help but sound a little incredulous. It's a ridiculous thought. "That's a little weird." He just shrugs. "Anyway, much as I love standing here talking about my underwear, I should get going."

"Don't you want some breakfast?" Food? Food would be good. "I was thinking about making French toast." Oh, now he's playing dirty. I almost agree to stay when my bladder reminds me that I already have to pee like a race horse, and I have to hold it until I get out of here, get a … I'm still having trouble thinking the actual word … pregnancy test, and get home. Best not to take any more time than I absolutely have to.

"No, I better not. But thanks anyway."

"You have to eat."

"I'll grab something on the way."

"Well, how about some coffee at least?" Coffee? Undoubtedly full of caffeine. Probably not the best idea. And to be honest, it really doesn't sound good to me. Not like the French toast … with a little powdered sugar and lots of syrup … my mouth's watering at the thought.

"Abby?" Luka's voice breaks into my food fantasy. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"Coffee?"

"No, thanks. I better not."

"Why not?"

Why not? Well, gee, to begin with, just the smell of it is enough to make me vaguely nauseous. Also, if I drink even a single drop of anything, I'm gonna have an accident right here on the kitchen floor. And then, of course, there's nothing like a steaming mug of caffeine to stunt the growth of … Jeez, Abby, you haven't even taken the test yet, much less decided … get a grip. And don't listen to that little voice urging you to tell him, I scold myself. Even though a part of me wants nothing more than to open my mouth and spill my guts, I know it's not the right thing to do. Why worry him with this when there may be nothing to worry about, right? Right. It may be nothing at all. And besides, I can worry enough for the both of us.

"Uh … I just should get going, that's all."

"Well, you can take it to go. I'll put it in one of those travel mugs." I 'd tell him not to bother, but I'm probably not gonna get out of here until I accept the coffee. "We're out of creamer, but I can put some milk in it."

"Black's fine." Whatever gets me out of here before I pee in my pants.

"You don't like it black."

"I do today." I've already got my coat on and my bag slung over my shoulder.

"Okay, whatever you say," he gives in with a little chuckle, handing me the mug of coffee which I do my best not to smell.

"Thanks," I say with a smile, taking the mug and heading for the door. "So … I'll see you at work?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay … bye." I hope I don't look as flustered as I feel.

"Bye." He's laughing again, apparently amused by me. I hope he hasn't noticed my unease this morning.

My sense of distress is alleviated a little bit once I slip out the door. At least I don't have to worry about sending out signals I don't really want him to pick up on … or blurting out something I don't really want him to hear. I hurry the few blocks to the L station, dumping out my coffee in a melty patch of yellowed snow. I find myself dancing a little jig as I wait for the train but I'm not sure if it's to ward off the cold or appease my bladder. Either way, I'm relieved when the train pulls up and I can hurry on and claim a seat in an empty car. It's at the next stop that I get company in the form of a rather frazzled looking thirty-maybe-forty-something woman and a cute baby, presumably belonging to her. When they sit down across from me, I resolve not to look and instead turn to look out the window. But the coos and giggles are hard to resist. And when I get the feeling that someone is watching me, I turn to meet the stare of a smiling, rosy-cheeked baby decked out in a little Santa suit under her pink coat. Between the big blue eyes and the wispy blond curls peeking out from under the Santa hat, I can't help smiling back at the toothless grin.

"She's adorable," I say when I catch the mother's eye.

"Thank you."

"How old is she?"

"Five months." Five months. It doesn't take a math whiz to figure that one out. The exact age that my … well, a year from now that could be … God, Abby, cut that out, I scold myself. I mean, even if I really am … well, that doesn't mean that a year from now this will be me. The thought is too overwhelming to deal with right now. And first things first. I have to find out if my instincts are even right. I find my hand straying to my stomach as if I might get some sort of vibe, physical or otherwise. How much longer am I going to be stuck on this train, anyway? Distraction. Distraction is the key. I catch the baby's eye and give her a big exaggerated grin, causing her to wriggle and smile.

"Her first Christmas. That must be fun." I say to the mom, thinking that a little conversation might make the time go faster.

"Yeah, it is," she agrees. "Hectic, but fun. I don't remember it being this much work when my other kids were little, but it's nice to have a little one around again. I'd forgotten how much fun that is."

"How old are your other kids?"

"Twelve and fourteen. Too old for Santa. And all teenage boys want for Christmas is video games … or money. Not that much fun to buy or wrap."

"Wow. Fourteen, twelve, and five months. That's a pretty big gap."

"Well, she was pretty big surprise. But it worked out well. We always wanted a little girl so … and it's sweeter the second time around. Of course, you also know exactly what you're in for … so it's scarier the second time around too."

'And is it worth it?' I want to ask, but don't. But I wonder …

"Well, this is our stop," the mother says, gathering the baby, the diaper bag, her purse, and a few shopping bags before struggling to the door. "Merry Christmas," she says as they depart.

"Merry Christmas," I say, waving to the baby who is watching me over her mother's shoulder. I'm still staring after them as the doors slide shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

By the time the next stop rolls around, I can't sit still any longer. It's one stop before mine, but I figure I might as well get off the train here since I have to find a drug store on my way home anyway, and I'm pretty sure I'll pass one on this route. As luck would have it, there's one just a block from the el. It's a small store and it doesn't take me long to find the euphemistically titled 'family planning' aisle. I roll my eyes at the idea. After all, there was nothing planned about this. I march past the selection of apparently useless drug store contraceptives and find the display of about fifty different home pregnancy tests. There's one that will detect it the earliest (five days before your missed period, but I _way_ beyond that stage), one that will detect it the fastest (in less than one minute, but you pay a pretty price for that convenience), but since I don't need either of those functions, I opt for the one that will detect it the cheapest. A store brand that claims it will give results perhaps as fast as one minute but not more than three. Good enough for me. They're all the same anyway. This one that I have in my hand does stress using the first morning's urine sample so as to get the highest concentration of pregnancy hormones, should they happen to be present. But since I'm still holding that first sample of the day, this ought to work just fine. I'm about to head for the checkout when I notice the two-pack. Never hurts to be sure, right? In fact, maybe I ought to get a couple two-packs. Or maybe … I sweep several of the boxes into my arms and head for the register.

I'm happy to see that the kid behind the register could not be more bored and apathetic. My purchase -- over fifty bucks in pregnancy tests -- doesn't seem to interest him in the least … and probably wouldn't in any case, unless, of course, I happened to be buying some sort of girl-on-girl smut magazine. But something so mundane as a few pregnancy tests doesn't even seem to register with him. I wish I could be as blasé about the whole thing. But then it's my life that it's on the line. Well, my life as I know it anyway. Because the minute I pee on this stick, everything changes. Even if, by some chance, it should happen to be negative, I feel like things will change. Maybe things have already changed. Or maybe I have.

At any rate, it's a strange feeling, walking into my apartment, bag full of pregnancy tests in hand, the shape of my future hanging in the balance. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, even though I know perfectly well that I'm not. Mostly because of my great need to urinate. I was practically hopping up and down with my legs crossed in the pharmacy … by now the situation has grown even more urgent. I move into the bathroom and open up the test, consulting the directions. I didn't really think directions saying "pee on the stick" were necessary, but apparently they are. In fact, they're very specific, telling you how long to pee before you pee on the stick, how long to pee on the stick, what to do with the stick after you've peed on it. And my personal favorite instruction would be the one about hand washing. Yeah, I never would have thought of that on my own. I toss the instructions figuring that as long as I manage to get any pee anywhere on the stick, for any amount of time it ought to be fine. Luckily, I've got so much saved up that there's not much need to be precise about anything. And once the pressure on my bladder is finally relieved, all there is to do is wait. Oh, and wash my hands, of course, as per the instructions.

Okay, so now all I have to do it wait one to three minutes. Sure, no problem. Sixty seconds from now everything … and I mean, _everything_ changes. But hey, no pressure. I stay in the bathroom, alternately rooted to the spot, staring at the stick for any sign of change or manically pacing back in forth in the small space. Ahh! This must be the longest minute ever. Certainly the longest minute of my entire life. It has to have been more than a minute. I've already counted to sixty twice. Using the one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi method and everything. I look at my watch. But then I realize I didn't bother to consult my watch when I was taking the test … after all I was a little bit busy at the time. So it does me no good to know what time it is now if I don't know what time it was then.

Oh God, why didn't I buy at least one one-minute test? It definitely would have been worth the extra five bucks to know by now. What's wrong with this test anyway? Maybe it's defective. Maybe I should get out the next one. Nothing's happening and it must be a least two minutes. Where's the box? Didn't the box say that it would take three minutes at the most? Hasn't it been three minutes? What kind of torture is this? Okay, maybe I just need to calm down. God knows I'm gonna freak out enough when I see the results of this test. That is, if I ever get any results. If the test ever works. I just need to take a deep breath and be patient. It can't be much longer now … in fact, I'm sure that the next time I look at the test, the results will be there … not just the faint control line, but a clear result.

I look at my watch again … it's two minutes since I looked at it the last time so it must be time by now. I stop pacing long enough to glance over at the counter where the test stick rests. I can't see the top of it, where the results are displayed, from here … I'm gonna have to walk over there and look at it. It's only a few feet away. Such a short distance to go to see your future. And yet, I can't seem to move. I want to know. But at the same time, I don't. I take a deep breath … again. Now or never. And I know there's no way I can get through the day not knowing. Okay … here goes. I move slowly toward the sink. I don't look down at the test on the counter, but I look into the mirror. Abby, are you ready for this? No, I'm not. But I look anyway.

There it is. Bright as can be. Blue lines. Blue lines for positive. Positive as in pregnant. Pregnant. How in the world did I let this happen? And what am I supposed to do now? It hits me like a ton of bricks. Somehow, until this moment, I didn't really believe that it was true. Even doing the math this morning, even knowing that the odds were on a positive result, even the nagging nameless worry that's been floating around in my mind just below the level of consciousness these past few weeks … none of it was enough to prepare me for this moment. A moment I never really thought I'd see. I might have imagined it, but I never really believed I'd see it. And now … Oh, God … _Oh my God_. I look up from the test stick to my image in the mirror … just in time to see the first tear slide down my cheek.

The trip into work is surreal, to say the least. I can't seem to focus on anything but the memory of those blue lines. I stared at that first test for a while before it occurred to me that I should get ready for work. I gulped down some breakfast, and then went back to look at the test, make sure that it really was positive. I turned on the shower, and then went back to double check the test. When I got out of the shower, I looked at it once more. It was then that I started to wonder if maybe it was wrong. You're not supposed to get false negatives with these tests, but I figured maybe I did it wrong, and it wouldn't hurt to try again. The second time, I stared at the test strip the whole time, watching the blue lines appear. Another positive result … and this time it wasn't even the first morning's urine with all its concentrated hormones. With the second positive test, holding out hope that maybe it's wrong got a lot harder. Still, I was considering collecting a cup of pee and dipping all the tests in it at once when I glanced at my watch and realized the time. Late as I was, I had no choice but to steal one last look at those positive pregnancy tests and then head to work.

It's a wonder that I manage to remember the way. By some stroke of luck, I also happen to remember that damn cake that I'm supposed to pick up for the ER party, and so I swing by the bakery, where I wander in and out of the place on autopilot . I'll never know how I managed to remember a detail as small as a cake when I feel like I can't even remember my own name. It's all just too weird. I feel like I'm in the middle of a dream. Because this can't be me. Pregnant? Impossible. How did this happen? Well, okay, I know _how_ it happened. Your average 3rd grader knows how it happened. But still, it can't be real. It's just … impossible. Except, of course, that it's not. I mean, it's not like I haven't been having sex lately … a lot of sex, in fact. Not that it took a lot of sex to get me pregnant. One time. That's all it takes. Of course I've always known that, but it's a little bit different learning it first hand. And I'm learning all over again that no matter how careful you are … Guess I'm more fertile than I ever would have suspected. Lucky me.

I guess I am lucky … Certainly I'm lucky that this didn't happen the first time around with Luka. I shudder to think what a disaster it would have been then. Hell, I'm having a tough enough time wrapping my brain around it now. And things are good … really good between us this time. It's so much better than what we had before. Which makes sense, since this time we really know each other, and we've built a …relationship on a much more solid base. But still, I have no idea where this … thing with Luka and I is going. I don't ever really know what I want out of it, much less what he wants. All I know is that we've been having fun, really enjoying each other. And I just wanted it to stay like it that for awhile. I wanted a chance to just enjoy a happy, comfortable, uncomplicated relationship …something we missed out on that first time. And this time things have been so different … I've seen such a different side of Luka, and I'm loving every minute of it. Fun and laughter have sort of been the hallmark of our time together lately, and I was in no hurry to change that. And now … this. Suddenly, the fun and laughter of a light, easy relationship will become a thing of the past. Suddenly, there's a lot more at stake here than we ever would have imagined. And if the stakes are higher … well, suddenly, everything becomes so much more serious. How are on earth are we gonna handle something like this? Something so unplanned, so unexpected. I worry … I worry what this is going to do to Luka and I. I know it's gonna change everything. Nothing will be the same. We can't ever go back to the carefree days we've known these past few weeks. And that's my big regret. That those days are over forever now. Nothing will be the same … and what if … what if this ruins everything?

What if we're not on the same page about this? God, I don't even know what page _I'm _on. I don't know what I want. Well, no, if I'm honest … I know what I _want_ … but it's not that easy. Not for me. So many things to think about… so many questions that I have to ask myself. I don't even know if I should be considering keeping this baby. And yet … I am considering it. Almost in spite of myself. A part of me feels like I have no business even thinking about having a baby. I know it's crazy. Probably a very bad idea. For most of my life, I've thought of motherhood as something unattainable for me, and I decided a long time ago that I'd be better off if I just didn't think about it. But now this … It feels like a second chance … maybe a last chance for me. If I don't have _this_ baby now, I'll never be a mother. And maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I'm not meant to have children. I've worked very hard at making myself believe that, and I've been pretty successful convincing myself. But then there are moments … like this morning, on the train. And it's moments like that, that have me thinking about actually having this baby. The first time I was pregnant, there wasn't anything to think about, nothing to consider. I knew what I had to do. My panic at the thought of a bipolar child was just too much for me to handle at that point in my life. Not to mention all the other strikes against me then. There was just no way … no way I could even _think _about keeping that baby. So I didn't. I just took care of it, as quickly as possible, without telling anyone. I knew it was the only thing I could do. It's not like that this time. Not exactly. I'm scared. Scared of having it. Scared of not having it. Scared of telling Luka.

But I know I have to tell him. Right away before I lose my nerve. I just don't know how he's going to take this news. I have a pretty good idea of what he's going to want. And that scares me too. Because what if he wants it, but I just can't? Or what if I decide I want to keep it, and he doesn't want me as the mother of his child? If we can't agree on this … Nothing in the world would spell disaster for a relationship faster than that. And even if we both want the same thing … and even if he's willing to support me no matter what … how would we survive it? And what if I have to choose between what he wants and what I need … or if I let the fear make this decision for me … well, I just don't know … There's only one thing I know for sure. I need to tell him. I need to tell him right away. I'm not gonna make the same mistake I made last time. I thought I was doing the right thing then. And maybe it would be a kindness to Luka not to tell him … maybe if I knew for sure that I couldn't keep it … but no, I can't do that. I don't know what I want to do … but I know he should be a part of the decision. He needs to know. As soon as possible. Of course, I have to find the right time, but still … this isn't something I want to keep from him. Not even for a day. Frankly, I don't know how I'm gonna manage seeing him, talking to him, without blurting it out. But I want to do it in the right way. And at the right time. But maybe today's not the right time. It's Christmas Eve, after all. And he's so excited about Christmas, I certainly don't want to ruin it for him. Maybe I should wait. No, it's better to tell him right away, Christmas or not. And maybe someday I'll end up being glad I told him on Christmas Eve, if … first things first, Abby, I remind myself.

I'm standing in the ER, ostensibly sorting through my messages, but these are the thoughts that are running through my head. And when Luka suddenly appears, whispering in my ear, I jump a mile, startled out of my reverie, and scrambling to appear normal. I'm certainly not going to give him life-altering news as we stand here discussing our Christmas plans. It's such a light moment, full of jokes and easy camaraderie that I wouldn't want to spoil it. And besides, this certainly isn't the right time. Best that I just go get changed --without his help, thank you very much -- and get to work. Maybe I'll be able to get my mind off of _it_ by throwing myself into work.

Good plan. Too bad it doesn't work. Oh, I'm not so spacey that I can't manage to tend to my patients, but no matter what I'm doing all day, even when I'm incredibly focused on the task at hand, it's still there. Still in the back of my mind. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Almost as steady as the beating of my heart. Preg-nant, preg-nant, preg-nant, the word being pounded out with every heartbeat. I can't stop thinking about it. It's just always there in the background. I'm saying all the right things to everyone, smiling in all the right places, which actually isn't as hard to do as I might have thought. Because even with all the fear and trepidation, there's this little tiny part of me that actually feels … happy? Excited? But I know I can't let myself give in to that part of me that wants to be happy. I have to think this out. I can't just do what sounds good at the moment … this is the most important decision I'll ever make. And that weighs heavily on me. And yet … that steady refrain in the back of my mind all day long … pregnant, pregnant, pregnant … one minute it almost brings a smile to my face, and the next it scares the hell out of me. Every time I see Luka, my stomach turns over. And it's not morning sickness either.

When he insists on conferring with me in the drug lock-up, it's all I can do to keep my mind on the conversation … the bantering about Christmas gifts. At one point, I almost tell him right then and there before thinking better or it. If I can barely concentrate on work, what would it do to him? We don't need two of us totally spaced out. And he's the boss now so it's really not a good idea to lay something like this on him in the middle of a shift. He'll know soon enough. But this is not the right time. So instead, I tell him he's gonna love what I got him - where the hell did that come from ?- all the while hoping that somehow these aren't going to be the last few happy moments we'll ever spend together. Anyway, he doesn't even believe that I got him anything. Which is probably because I didn't. Get him anything, that is. Well, I didn't get him anything except … some Christmas gift. An unexpected pregnancy. A child that whether or not we want, I'm not sure we should have. Merry Christmas. Maybe I shouldn't tell him. Maybe I should wait. But maybe he'd want to know right away. Oh, God …

I'm still trying to decide what to do that evening as I head down the street to Ike's and the infamous ER Christmas party. All day long I haven't been able to get it … you know, _it_ out of my mind. I even signed up for Haleh's audition in the hopes of getting my mind off _it._ And instead I ended up singing _Silent Night … holy infant, so tender and mild_ …Jesus Christ. I can't get away from it. Even buying Luka a snow globe and slapping a bow on it, all I'm thinking about is the real Christmas surprise I have for him. And now, walking into Ike's, spotting him at the bar, my heart is thumping in my chest, my palms are sweaty, and I'm sure my knees must be knocking too. But I smile brightly when he catches my eye and join him at the bar for a little gift exchange. He unwraps his Jumbo Mart snow globe, sweetly pretending to be thrilled with it. And then I unwrap his gift. A compass. Because 'we always find each other.' Oh, crap. I have to tell him. God, I don't want to ruin this. But there's just no way around it. It's now or never. And it can't be never so …

"Can we talk?" His face falls the moment the words are out of my mouth. He looks crushed already. And he has no idea what's in store for him. But he follows me outside anyway. He turns to look at me, undoubtedly wondering what I've called him out here to talk about. Whatever he might suspect, I'll bet it's nowhere near the truth. I take a deep breath and plunge in. Sort of. It's so much harder than I thought it would be. I find myself rambling on about how happy we've been and how I don't want to doing anything to screw it up. Luka tries to reassure me that I'm not gonna mess anything up, but he has no idea.

"Luka …"

"Yeah." He sounds just a little bit impatient, like he's wishing I would get on with it already.

"Oh, man …" This is it. The moment that changes everything.

"What?" His voice is softer now, reassuring. I can tell be his tone that he knows that something is really wrong, and he just wants to know what it is … so that maybe he can make it better. Oh, Luka …

I just have to say it. So I do. "I'm pregnant."

So much for easing into it. I just dropped it on him with no warning. And he's stunned. Shocked. I know the feeling. I'm waiting for his reaction, but he's just staring at me. I'm staring at him, he's staring at me. Nobody's saying anything. Talk about a pregnant pause. I'm not really sure what to do. I open my mouth to say something … to ask him to say something, but I can't seem to make any words come out.

He's the one to finally break the silence. "Pregnant?" I don't speak, I just nod silently. I can't tell what he thinking. I wonder what he'll ask me next. If I'm sure? If it's his? No, he wouldn't ask that. As it turns out, he doesn't ask anything else. He just regards me carefully for a moment, looking as if he feels as befuddled as I do.

"I'll be right back," he says as he hurries back toward Ike's and heads inside. Great, it's driving him to drink already. Okay, I know that's not true. And sure enough, he's back in few minutes, having collected the stuff we left behind.

"Let's go home," he suggests. And then he strides off down the street toward the el. I find myself trotting behind him, trying to catch up. He goes up the stairs to the platform to wait for the next train, and I just follow after him. We still haven't exchanged more than that handful of words. And that hasn't changed by the time the train arrives. He ushers me onto the el and then into a seat, sitting down next to me. We ride, staring ahead, locked in silence, locked in our own thoughts. Of course, _my _thoughts run mostly to wondering what he's thinking. I glance over at him, hoping for a clue, but I can't read the expression on his face. I don't think he's noticed me stealing glances at him until I feel his hand slip into mine. When I turn to look at him, I find him looking back at me. Our eyes meet, and I search his for any hint as to what he's thinking.

And then he smiles at me. A slow, soft, comforting smile. "It's gonna be all right, Abby," he says, squeezing my hand. I blink away the tears that pop suddenly into my eyes, but not fast enough to keep him from seeing them. He pulls me to him, into an awkward hug. "It really is going to be all right." I pull back and look at him, not daring to believe him. "It's not the worst thing that could have happened."

I laugh at that, but it's not a happy sound. "It's not?" I wonder what it is that he thinks could be worse.

"I thought … when you wanted to go outside and talk … I thought you were gonna say that you didn't want to see me anymore. You know."

"Oh. Not exactly." I look down at my hands as they twist a button on my coat. "I'm sorry," I whisper, biting my lip.

"For what?" He tries to catch my eye, but I turn away, looking out the window into the dark night. He reaches over and put his hand on my cheek, gently turning my head toward him. "Hey … things happen for a reason." Yeah, I think, because no form of birth control, save abstinence, is foolproof. But I don't say anything, I just look at him. "Sometimes … we can't see the reason. Sometimes not for a long, long time. But that doesn't mean there isn't one."

I nod, thinking about what he said. He may be right. But that doesn't exactly help me. If I can't see the reason, how am I supposed to know what to do? I know what he's getting at, though, and I know where he stands. Now if I could just figure out where _I_ stand. But that's going to take more than just this conversation, more than just tonight.

We slip back into silence. I'm grateful for the chance to just think. But I'm also grateful to have him here, next to me, on this speeding train that is carrying me toward home, but into an uncertain future. I reach out, fitting my smaller hand into his bigger, stronger hand. I'm going to need that strength, and all the support he can muster … so that I can make the hardest decision of my life.


	2. Strong Enough

_Title: These Are the Days _

_Author: AbbyGirl3476_

_Rating: R … or M, whatever … who can follow this European ratings system?_

_Spoilers: Nope. This one is set after 12.11, If Not Now … if you saw that one, we're good. _

_Summary: A collection of vignettes about the Abby, Luka and baby saga, inspired by actual episodes. I like to think of it as "what we didn't see." _

_Author's Note: Big thanks to MELANIE for almost going to New York City without a stitch of clothing, just so she could read and comment on this chapter. She said it was good to go, so blame her if it's not. Anyway, thanks to the people who gave me such nice reviews … all FIVE of them. I won't mention names, you know who you are. As for the rest of you … come on now, people, I know you can do better than that. See, the thing is, I only know people are reading this if they review it … so I assume only five people read it. Now, not that I won't keep writing just for the five of you, but still … So if you manage to get to the end of the chapter, and you like what you read, how about letting me know? And hey, feel free to tell your friends to read and review, too. As always, e-mail me or IM on AIM (AbbyGirl3476) if you have questions or comments or just want to chat. Just one caveat, I am spoiler-free and would like to stay that way … thanks. _

* * *

_These Are the Days_

"These are the days now that we must savor … and we must enjoy as we can … these are the days that will last forever … you've got to hold them in your heart."

_Chapter 2: Strong Enough _

It feels like we've been sitting on this bench, hands clasped together, staring at the water without uttering a word, for hours. It reminds me so much of the night I told him I was pregnant. We didn't know what to say then, either. Or rather, we didn't know where to start. The words were slow in coming, but eventually we started talking. And he knew all the right things to say. Or maybe more importantly he knew what not to say. This afternoon he told me he didn't know what else to say; he'd run out of words; he'd run out of ways to try to convince me to keep this baby. And I told him not to say anything. I already knew how he felt. And there wasn't anything he _could_ say at that point that was going to make a difference.

I knew it would come down to answering just one question, a question that only I could answer. Not whether or not I wanted the baby. I _wanted_ it all along. No, the question was whether or not I was strong enough. Strong enough to face my fears, brave enough to take the risk, courageous enough to have this baby. I remember telling a scared patient not too long ago that life doesn't stay the same and that I hoped that when it changed I'd be brave enough to change with it. And here was my chance. I just had to find the courage to take that chance. I'm still not sure where it came from, but it arrived just in the nick of time. And so here I am. Sitting on this bench, watching the peaceful water, holding Luka's hand, still pregnant. And freezing.

"Luka," I say, finally breaking the silence. "I can't feel my face. I'm slowly freezing to death on this bench."

"Well, then, maybe we should think about going home."

"Yeah, let's go home," I agree, turning to look at him, slowly smiling at him … what feels like my first real smile all day. He smiles back. A smile, that for the first time in weeks, for the first time since we've known about this pregnancy, isn't marred by a sadness in his eyes. But there's still something there … an uncertainty maybe.

"What?" I ask, tucking my arm in his, as we start on our way home.

"What what?"

"I just thought you seemed … I don't know. I mean, this _is_ what you wanted, right?" I know that it is, but still, I can't help but worry … what if _he's_ having second thoughts.

"Of course." He's quick to reassure me.

"But?"

"Well … it's what _you_ want … right?"

"I always _wanted _it. It wasn't about that." I pause for a moment, looking down at the ground before looking up to catch his eye. "Yeah, it's what I want."

"You're sure?" I hear the worry in his voice. Ah … so that's it. I stop walking, keeping my hand on his arm. He turns to look at me. I look him in the eye. Because I want him to know how much I mean this.

"Luka … I'm sure. I'm not gonna change my mind." He opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt him before he can get it out. "And I'm not doing it just for you. It's what I want, too. I meant that. It was never that I _didn't_ want it … I was just scared.

"And you're not scared anymore?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I'm still scared. But I don't have any doubts about wanting to have the baby. Okay? Feel better?" He nods and smiles, and we resume our walk. We're quiet again for a while, apparently not needing any words. But it's a comfortable silence, both of us feeling relieved. Well, I feel a huge sense of relief, anyway. I can only imagine that it's the same for him. We haven't said anything for so long that I'm startled when I hear his voice.

"What made you decide?"

"To keep the baby?" No, Abby, he's wondering how you chose your nail color. I roll my eyes at myself, but he doesn't seem to notice the absurdity of my question.

"Yeah."

I knew that one was coming sooner or later. I just shrug, _really _not knowing where to begin. He deserves an explanation, and I plan to give him one. But maybe not here, on the street. "Uh … that's sort of a long story. Maybe we should save it for when we get home. Maybe over dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking Chinese. That place on the corner."

"I guess that could be arranged."

"Good. I'm starving. If we don't get home soon, I'm gonna eat my scarf." Luckily we get home before I have to resort to eating my clothing. I send Luka to the phone to order dinner right away and then scurry into the bathroom. Jeez, what is this? Now that I'm finally fully on board with this pregnancy, are all the symptoms going to descend upon me at once? No, that's stupid … I'm probably just starving and needing to pee desperately because I've totally neglected all my bodily functions today … I had other things on my mind.

"The food will be here in about an hour," Luka tells me when I emerge from the bathroom.

"An hour? I can't wait that long."

"Well, it's not McDonald's, Abby. Plus, there's delivery."

"Delivery? Why didn't you just do take out? It's just down the street."

"You want me to?" He looks slightly worried, like a little boy wondering if he's disappointed his mother.

"No, that's okay, I'll just have a snack," I call to him as I begin rummaging around the cupboard. Hmm, Poptarts. That'll do.

"A Poptart?" He doesn't sound too thrilled.

I shrug. "It's got fruit in it." He rolls his eyes a bit, but doesn't protest any further. And when I sit down on the couch next to him, he reaches out and pulls me over to lean against him. He wraps his arms around me, making it a little difficult to eat my Poptart, but I don't want to complain. I hear and feel the sigh that escapes him as he drops a kiss on the top of my head.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asks eventually.

My turn to sigh. "I knew I had to make a decision," I say slowly, fiddling with the Poptart, finally breaking off a piece, before putting the whole thing down. I look over my shoulder at him. "It was time. I couldn't keep straddling the fence. I know how hard it was on you, and it wasn't any easier on me. I just … I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. I knew there wasn't anything left to talk about. I just had to figure out whether or not I could get past the fear." I trail off and lapse into silence yet again.

"And?" he asks, finally breaking the silence as he nuzzles his cheek against the top of my head.

"And … then I saw Coburn in the ER. And I thought, 'today's the day.' No time like the present, right? I didn't want to wait until I was even further along. Waiting wasn't going to make it any easier. I mean, if I wasn't going to keep it."

"If? I thought you'd made up your mind."

" I did. About 400 times. One minute I'd make up my mind to keep it, and the next I'd decide that I was crazy to even consider it. And it seems like every patient I had today just reminded me of all the things I was scared of. And then I would think to myself that there was no way. No way that I could have the baby. Even knowing how much you wanted it, even though I wanted it, too. I'd try to convince myself that maybe it could work. I kept replaying our conversations, and all the ways you tried to reassure me … but it just didn't help. It just seemed like there was only one sensible choice. Still, I didn't really know what I was going to do when I made the appointment … or even when I left for the appointment. I wanted to tell you that, that I wasn't sure, but I just … I didn't want to give you false hope because I thought that probably I would … but then, I couldn't."

"Why not?" His hand strokes my hair lightly, letting me know that everything's okay. No matter what I say, it's okay.

"I don't know. I sat in that waiting room … and it was full of … families. Kids. Moms and kids. The mom with a fussy baby, the happy expectant couple, the scared teenager … and me. I just kept thinking that I'd be giving up my last chance. And I wasn't sure … I'm not sure, if I'm ready for this, but I didn't like the thought of closing the door on … on motherhood. I didn't like the idea of walking into that room pregnant and walking out … not. I remember all too well what that feels like. Then I started thinking about all the patients that I've had over the years, when I was an OB nurse, and even in the ER, patients that have tried so hard for so long … and all they wanted in the world was a baby. They were willing to go through anything, any pain or anguish necessary, make whatever sacrifices were necessary … just to have a baby. And here, we got one without even trying. How lucky was that?"

That makes him smile. And I smile in return, blinking away the tears that are gathering in the corners of my eyes. "I kept thinking about what you said … that everything happens for a reason. I mean, it happened so quickly."

"Quickly?" He asks, laughter in his voice. Okay, so maybe quickly was an understatement.

"Okay, quicker than quickly."

"More like immediately."

"Right. Immediately. And so … you know, here we are … barely back together, and I'm pregnant already. It happened right away, in spite of the fact that we were careful, in spite of the fact that I'm 37 and probably not exactly at peak fertility. I mean, what are the odds? The odds really should have been against it happening. But it did. So maybe … maybe you're right."

He picks up my hand that he's been holding this whole time and lifts it up to his lips, kissing it gently. "I thought about you, too." I tell him. "I knew how much you wanted us to keep it. And I knew how disappointed you were … and I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to lose you. And I wanted you to have what you want so much. I knew you'd be a great father. But of course it would only work if I was okay with it. And I wasn't sure if I was or not. Until they called my name. And then suddenly I knew I couldn't. I knew I needed to have this baby. It's what you wanted, and it's what I wanted. The only thing standing in the way was the fear. And I couldn't just throw away this … gift, just because I was scared."

"That took a lot of courage," he says, and I can hear the emotion in his voice.

"It wasn't courage," I say, shaking my head gently, even as it rest against his chest. "I'm still terrified."

"Abby, courage isn't about not being scared. It about being scared but going forward anyway. That's brave. You should be proud. I am."

I turn around in his arms, looking in his eyes a moment, before reaching up to kiss him. His head bends to mine, and we share a sweet kiss. The kiss deepens, and it's unlike any that we've shared these past couple of weeks. No strain or tension, just happiness. When we finally pull away, I keep my arms wrapped loosely around his neck, looking at him a long time before I speak again.

"You know this afternoon when you said that I didn't like the way it sounded when you said you wanted us to keep the baby?" He nods with a somewhat puzzled look on his face. "That's not true. I did like the sound of it. More than you know. I just had a hard time imaging that it could work out."

"Abby --" he starts, but I shake my head, interrupting him.

"No, listen. This morning when I was talking to Coburn, and I told her that I didn't know if I was ready … well, she asked me if that meant I didn't want to keep it. And I started crying. Immediately. Right there in the ER hallway. _That's_ what I didn't like the sound of. But us keeping the baby … I hated knowing that you thought that I didn't _like_ the idea. It wasn't that. And it certainly wasn't you. I just didn't - don't - want to be responsible for screwing up some poor innocent child."

"We won't," he reassures me, his voice taking on that please-just-believe-me tone.

"You won't …"

"You won't, either, Abby. You're gonna be a great mom."

"You really think so?" I go for a nonchalant tone, but I think it comes off more needy and vulnerable.

"Abby." His no nonsense voice. He shakes his head at me a little. "Of course. You're a natural."

"You're crazy."

"No, I'm serious."

"Seriously crazy. I don't know the first thing about being a mother."

"That's the beauty of being a natural. You don't have to know." I pull away so I can look at back him and give him a skeptical look. "It just comes … naturally?" He says that like maybe he's talking to someone just a little bit slow. I just keep looking at him. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"Yeah, I told you. I have no idea how to be a mother."

"That's not what I mean, Abby. I meant that you have no idea what a nurturer you are. The way you take care of the patients … your mother, your brother … anyone who crosses your path in need of a little TLC. Of course you're going to be a good mom."

I'm not sure I really believe him, but I do appreciate the effort. "That's all I want." I say with a sigh, settling back into his embrace. He leans toward me, brushing my forehead with his lips.

"You may not be convinced, but I am. I mean, you don't think I'd let just anybody have my baby, do you?"

"Well …" I say in a teasing voice.

"Well, I wouldn't. But I'm letting you." He doesn't hesitate to imitate my teasing tone.

"Ooh, you're _letting_ me. Like it's some sort of privilege."

"It is a privilege."

"Oh right. I forgot, you've got women lined up around the block, just waiting to use you for stud purposes."

"And out of all of them, I chose you."

"Oh, you chose me, huh? And I thought you said you weren't just looking for someone to have a baby with." But I look over my shoulder and grin at him, so that he knows I'm joking. "Of course, if that's all you wanted, you never would have picked me."

"Sure, I would have." His voice is softer, more serious now. "Why wouldn't I? You're smart and funny. And sweet. And … stubborn," he concedes. I turn and give him a look. "But I like that." I narrow my eyes at him. "And beautiful. Did I mention beautiful?"

"Oh, you're so full of shit." I say, back to laughing again.

"Don't say bad words in front of the baby."

"I don't think the baby can hear me yet."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to get in the habit now."

I just give him a look to let him know that I'm not impressed with his suggestion. And then a sobering thought … just about six months from now, that baby that he's "letting" me have will be here. "God, there's so much to do get ready … I don't know how we'll have enough time."

"We have plenty of time, Abby. Just relax. Enjoy it."

Enjoy it? I raise my eyebrows at that idea. But then, I guess maybe he's right about this too. Maybe I should try to enjoy it.

I'm contemplating trying to relax and enjoy myself, but there's something nagging at me that I can't manage to ignore.

"Luka?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." But he sounds a little worried.

"I was just wondering if you meant what you said earlier."

"About you being a good mom? Yeah, of course I meant it."

"No, I mean, earlier this afternoon. When you found me … sitting on the bench? You thought I … wasn't pregnant anymore. But you still wanted us to be together. Did you really mean that?"

"Yeah, I did."

"But … why?"

"Why?" He asks, confused.

And just then the doorbell rings. "Food's here," he says, sounding a little too excited about that fact.

"Saved by the bell?" I ask as I quickly disentangle myself from Luka so that I can go answer the door.

"Sit down, rest," he urges, gently pushing me back down on the couch. "I'll get it."

"I think I can manage to get to the door without wearing myself out."

"Sit," he says firmly, gently pushing me down on the couch. So I just watch as he goes to the door to retrieve a mountain of Chinese food. He clatters around setting the table, getting all the food set out before I'm allowed up from the couch. And when I get to the table I find a smorgasbord of Chinese cuisine laid out in front of me.

"Think you got enough?" I can't help asking.

"You said you were starving. And you _are_ eating for two," he says, with a cocky grin.

"Two what? Armies?" I ask as I take in the food-covered table. He must have ordered one of everything on the menu.

"So we'll have leftovers. I have a feeling they'll come in handy." I give him a suspicious look, wondering what _that's_ supposed to mean. But I don't spend too long pondering; not when there's food to be eaten. When I load up my plate for the third time, Luka gives me a look that's half amused, half scared.

"What?" I demand, a challenge in my voice.

"Nothing," he says quickly. I don't believe that for a moment.

"You've got something to say?"

"No."

"What? You worried that I'm gonna get fat?"

"No, Abby, of course not." He pauses, considering, I suppose, whether he ought to say what he's thinking. But when he catches sight of me impatiently tapping my fork and sees the look on my face, he must realize that he's not gonna get out of this one. "Okay, I'm _not _saying that you're eating too much or anything, but I do think it's funny that _you_ were worried about having too much food."

I give him a dark look. "I can't help it," I say, surveying the dent I put in the mountain of take-out. "Other than those Poptarts, this is the first thing I've eaten all day."

"Well, that's not a very good idea." But he pats my hand as he says it. Which may be meant to distract me since he slips my plate away from me while I'm not looking.

"I know," I say, watching him as he clears the table. "But I had other things on my mind."

"Yeah, I know." There's something in his voice that reminds me of just how well he does know.

"I'm sorry," I say, looking down at my hands, fiddling around with a set of chopsticks that I didn't even bother to try to eat with at this meal.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he tells me, smiling over his shoulder at me.

"I feel like there is. After all you've been through … and now I've put you through all this. I know how hard it was on you. And I just feel bad that you had to … suffer through it. All that agony for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing, Abby."

"No, I know. I just mean that I wish I hadn't put you through two weeks of torture. I wish I could have felt this way right away."

"And how's that?"

"Like … I can't imagine not having this baby. Like I can't imagine not being pregnant. Like I don't even want to think about what it would have been like to come home tonight … not pregnant anymore. Like I'm sure this is the right thing. If only I'd figured it out sooner …"

"Hey, it's okay. You needed those couple of weeks to figure things out … to be sure. I'm just glad it turned out the way it did. We're keeping it. That's all that matters now. And it's worth a couple of weeks of agonizing. I'd go through it all over again to end up here … with you … and the baby."

He smiles and turns back to the dishes. And I stand up and quietly cross through the kitchen to stand behind him. I slip my arms around his waist and lean into him, resting my cheek against his back.

"Thank you," I say, squeezing him a little tighter.

"For doing the dishes?" He asks, his tone playful. But he shuts off the water, and then turns around in my embrace.

"For being the strong one. I wouldn't have gotten to this point if it hadn't been for you."

"And here I thought …"

"That you hadn't gotten through to me? That's not true. You did. It just …"

"Wasn't enough?"

"No. I guess I just needed … I don't know. The right perspective, maybe."

"Perspective?"

"You asked me earlier what made me decide. And I don't really know. I mean, it was I what I really wanted all along. So maybe it was just a case of following my heart. Not to mention conquering my fears. But I think that to get there, I had to look at things a little differently. This morning I kept thinking that it wouldn't be right … keeping it. There just seemed so many reasons not to keep it. But then, this afternoon, something happened. It stopped being an unplanned pregnancy and became a baby. I'd tried very hard not to think of it that way. But there it was. As I sat in that waiting room, I wasn't there to maybe terminate an unplanned pregnancy; I was there to decide the fate of a baby. My baby. And even though I thought that maybe not having it would be better than having it and screwing it up, suddenly, I found myself thinking about what the baby might want. Everything struggles to live, right? Survival is, like, the most basic human instinct. And God knows, my parents managed to royally screw up my childhood, and I've been miserable more times than I care to remember, but I never wished that I'd never been born. So that's what I was thinking about when they called my name. And I knew I couldn't do it."

"Well, I'm awfully glad that you couldn't."

"I knew you would be. And I am too."

His head bends toward mine, and I look up into his eyes briefly before our lips meet and my eyes flutter closed as I melt into the kiss.

When we pull away, he looks at me for a moment, his eyes dark and serious. "You still want to know why?" He asks me. "This is why."

"Because you like kissing me?" I'm not quite sure what we're talking about, so that seems as good a place to start as any.

He chuckles at that. "No. Well, it doesn't hurt. But that's not what I'm talking about."

"What are we talking about?"

"Don't you remember? You wanted to know why I would have wanted to be with you … even if you had decided that you … couldn't have this baby."

"Oh, right." I slip out of his embrace, and turn to walk away, but he catches me by the hand.

"Hey. I would want to be with you no matter what because … this is good. We laugh together. Cry together. We can talk to each other. Really talk. Even these past few weeks that have been so tough, we never lost that. And if we can get through something like this, we can get through anything."

"But you want this so much. And if I'd taken that away from you…"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. I would have been sad. But I know you would have been too. And we would have gotten through it together."

"But …"

"No buts. I know how lucky I am to have you. And I'm not gonna make the same mistake twice. I'm not letting go of you." He pulls me close to him, and wraps his arms around me again.

"Well, you're kinda stuck with me now."

"Lucky me, huh?" He asks, giving me a smile.

"No, I think I'm the lucky one. Like I told you, I never would have gotten this far without you. I never would have had the strength."

He puts his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look at him. "Of course, you would have, Abby. I told you, being a parent makes you stronger. And it's started already. You didn't need my strength. You just needed to find your own. And you did. And see? You were strong enough all along."

And with that I kiss him. A kiss to celebrate us, our baby, and the future we're going to share together.


	3. A Kind of Magic

_Title: These Are The Days_

_Author : AbbyGirl3476_

_Rating: M_

_Spoilers: None. Unless you haven't seen season 12. _

_Author's Note: Thanks to MELANIE and LISA for the editing. You're better than chocolate. Hey, y'all, I know you want to review. You do. I know you do. And for those of you who already did, the comments are much appreciated … thanks. _

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These Are The Days

"These are the days now that we must savor … and we must enjoy as we can … these are the days that will last forever … you've got to hold them in your heart"

_Chapter 3:_ _A Kind of Magic _

"How's everything going in there?" A voice calls through the dressing room curtain. I break away from a hot-and-heavy kiss, and try to catch my breath. When I don't answer right away, the salesgirl tries again. "Ma'am? How are those working out for you? Can I get you a different size?"

I yank Luka's hands out from under my sweater and push firmly on his shoulders, to no avail. "Get_ off_ me," I whisper fiercely, not wishing to be caught tangled up, rolling around on the floor. I'm forced to start swatting at his chest to finally get him to let me up. I pop up onto my feet, readjusting my disheveled clothing.

"Uh … fine. Just fine. Everything's fine," I call through the curtain.

"Can I get you any different sizes or anything?" Irritatingly insistent, I'll give her that.

"No, _thanks_," I say with yelp, as I feel my butt being cupped by a large, persistent hand. I look over my shoulder as I swat his hand away. Unfortunately, that only encourages him to put his hands on my hips and attempt to draw me back down to the floor. "Cut it out," I whisper, trying to pull out of his grasp. "_Get up!_" I gesture toward the flimsy curtain in exasperation, but he doesn't seem impressed.

"Excuse me? What was that?" This saleslady just won't give it up.

"Nothing, nothing. "

"You're sure everything's okay? You don't need anything?" Just for you to go away, I think to myself. And for Mr. Touchy-Feely here to keep his hands to himself. His arms are wrapped around me from behind, now, with his big hands resting on my belly, under my sweater. I pull them firmly away once again.

"I'm sure. I'm fine," I answer the overly-eager salesgirl, in what I hope is a friendly enough voice. "I don't need anything else. But thanks." I hear a sigh through the curtain and can almost see the look on the woman's face as she peers at the curtain, wishing she could see through it. I hold my breath -- and Luka's hands -- until I hear her walk away. When I'm fairly certain she's gone, I peek out the edge of the curtain to make sure she's not lurking.

"Is the coast clear?" Luka asks, before I can even close the curtain.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's gone."

"Good," he says, taking advantage of the distraction to catch me off guard and pull me onto his lap.

"_Luka_."

"Mm-hmm," is the only answer as he immediately attacks my neck.

"Stop that," I say firmly, pulling away from him. "What's with you ?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, all of a sudden, you're so … handsy," I say as one of the hands in question slips back under my sweater … _again._

"I don't think there's any such word."

"You know what I mean. Really, what's gotten into you?"

"You." He pulls me to him. "It's not my fault that you're irresistible."

"What_ever_," I say, not believing his bullshit. "I think that's just your pregnancy fetish talking."

"Pregnancy fetish?"

"Yeah. I mean, you were just telling me how beautiful you think pregnant women are. And lately, you've been all over me. Even here, in this dressing room of all places." I gesture around the tiny room, to prove my point that lately anywhere is fair game.

"Hey, you started this."

"I did not. I shushed you. _You_ kissed _me._"

"And _you_ are the one that's always all over me."

"Don't change the subject. And no, I'm not." He looks at me, confused. "No, I'm not always all over you."

"Oh, really."

"Well …" I smile sheepishly, feeling myself blush. Okay, so maybe he's got me on that one. Unburdened by morning sickness or any other truly unpleasant side effects of pregnancy, I find the only major change I have to contend with so far is my increased appetite -- for food … and other things. Not that I'm complaining. And I don't think Luka is either. We've both been perfectly happy to celebrate the existence of this baby by revisiting, again and again … and again, the act that got us this baby. And that's generally a good thing. But that doesn't mean I want to revisit how we made the baby in a baby store dressing room.

"Okay," I say, struggling free and standing up again, "That's enough. We have to stop." He's giving me a petulant look, clearly not agreeing with me. "That saleslady is gonna be back here any second. And besides, it's kinda creepy."

"What is?" He asks, seeming genuinely perplexed.

"You know. Making out in here." I bend over to pick up the stuffed elephant that's escaped from one of our bags to illustrate my next point. "Surrounded by squeaky toys and baby sleepers, with a nursery rhyme quilt hanging over us. It's like having sex in crib."

"We weren't exactly having sex," he points out.

"Fine. Like fooling around in a crib. It's still creepy. I mean, don't you think it's creepy? Of course, you do. Who wouldn't? Of course, people do some weird things, and we've seen them all in the ER. Except that would just be too weird, don't you think? And there wouldn't be enough room. Of course, if there's enough room in a bathtub … but there's gotta be a weight limit, right? And …"

"Abby."

"What?"

"Let me get this straight … _you _want to know what's wrong with _me_ today?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, earlier you were babbling about how scary it would be if we were rats, and now you're rambling on about bizarre places people have sex."

"Well, I don't really think the bathtub is that bizarre."

"But a dressing room is."

"When it reminds me of a crib. Besides, no one's talking about having sex in a dressing room. Especially not this one with its thin curtain and nosy salespeople."

"So it's not dressing rooms in general that you're opposed to, just this one?"

"I never said that," I tell him with a laugh. "Still, nothing more is happening here. But I promise to make it up to you when we get home."

"Well, maybe I won't feel like it when we get home." He says haughtily as he gets to his feet.

"Oh, right."

"I might have a headache."

"Oh, you're such a tease." I give him a big grin. "Do I look okay? Is my hair messed up?"

"Well, yeah. But you've been trying on clothes."

"Right. Right, let's go with that. Okay, let's try to get out of here." I reach down to pick up our discarded coats, tossing him his. "Put that on," I instruct as I slip back into my coat.

"You think you're friend is gone by now?"

"She's _not _my friend. She's the hospital gossip. And it's bad enough we're already stuck permanently in the rumor mill, I don't need _this_ to get out."

"It's gonna have to come out sooner or later, Abby."

"Later. Much later." I've been peering out the curtains again and don't see any sign of Debbie, or even any nosy sales staff. "Okay, let's go."

I slip out of the dressing room and walk quickly along one wall of the store, careful not to look around, just making a beeline for the door. It's not until Luka joins me on the sidewalk outside the store that I breathe again.

"Phew, we made it." I'm genuinely relieved.

"Well, thank God," he says, as sarcastically as possible. "No one saw us. We managed to escape with our lives," he adds, in over-dramatic B-movie fashion.

"Shut up." But I can't help but laugh as we start down the street.

"What?"

"You're making fun of me."

"No, I'm not."

"Sure, you are."

"Well ... I just don't get what the big deal is. Who cares if some woman who works in the pharmacy sees

us?"

"I told you, if she'd seen us, and all this baby stuff, she would have put two and two together. And then, she would have told everyone."

"Really? Some woman we don't even know, who may not even know us, is going to tell everyone?"

"I _told_ you. Just because you don't who she is, does _not_ mean that she doesn't know who you are. And believe me, she would be certain to tell someone else who works in the pharmacy, 'Oh my God, you'll never believe it, I saw that hunky Dr. Kovac from the ER buying out a baby store, and you'll never believe who was with him -- that bitchy ER resident, what's her name? Gabby? Abby?' … and then, before you know it, it's all over the hospital. And I think that just being back together has already earned us a permanent place in the hospital gossip column. We don't need to add more fuel to the fire."

"There's a gossip column? Is it in the newsletter?"

"No," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"Is there a newsgroup? An e-mail list? Is it written on the ladies' room wall? Is someone going to read it over the PA system?"

I narrow my eyes at him and then turn on my heel and stride away.

"Hey, where are you going?" he calls after me.

"My baby and I aren't speaking to you anymore," I inform him haughtily over my shoulder.

"_Your_ baby? This afternoon it was _our_ baby." He catches up to me, falling in step beside me. He gives me a smile but I'm not ready to give in yet.

"Well, this afternoon I liked you."

"And you don't like me anymore?"

"I don't like you when you're being mean to me."

"How am I being mean?" He sounds truly confused.

"Well, you seem to think that I'm crazy because I want a little privacy."

"I never said you were crazy."

"You implied it. Just because I don't want the entire world to know our business. What's so crazy about that?"

"Abby, we snuck into a dressing room and hid there because you were afraid some virtual stranger would spread rumors about us."

"See, you do think I'm crazy." This draws an exasperated sigh from him.

"I don't think you're crazy. I just think you're going to an awful lot of trouble to delay the inevitable. People are going to find out. And so what? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed. You think that's why I don't want people to know? It's not that. It's just … I don't know. It's still early, for one thing. Anything could happen. And that would be hard enough … without having to tell everyone.."

"Abby, nothing's gonna go wrong," he tries to reassure me, taking my hand.

"But it could. And I'd just rather wait until I feel more sure. But it's not just that. It's also … well, it's just such a major, life-changing event. And it's happening to us. No one else. It's private. And I want to keep it that way … as long as possible. This is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to share it yet. I just want it to be our little secret for awhile. Even if that means sneaking around baby stores and hiding out in dressing rooms. Okay?"

He looks at me for a moment, and then his gaze softens. "Okay. I'm sorry I gave you a hard time about it." I shake my head, indicating that it's all okay. "So? Are you speaking to me again?"

"Maybe. But I think maybe you need to make it up to me first."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Buy me dinner?"

"Dinner? You want to eat again?"

"_Luka._ It's not like I've been eating all day."

He gives me an 'oh really?' look. "How many Poptarts did you have when we came home from work?"

"That was just my bedtime snack."

"But we barely went to bed before we were back up again, and you were eating waffles."

"That was a long time ago," I point out.

"But what about the popcorn? Before we could even get started with your shopping expedition, you made me stand in that ridiculous popcorn line, remember?"

"It was just a little caramel corn."

"A little?"

"Okay, a lot of caramel corn. But we _shared_."

"You gave me one handful. And after that you growled at me if I tried to take any more. And I stood in line … _for an hour._ While you were … where were you anyway?"

"I told you, I had to go to the bathroom."

"It doesn't take an hour to go to the bathroom," he points out, sounding a little righteous. Hey, when was the last time you were pregnant, buddy?

"Well, I can't just go into a place and use their bathroom and not buy anything."

"Sure you can. And what did you buy? You didn't come back with a bag." I just look at him, not wanting to answer. "Abby." A warning tone.

"So I had a little ice cream. So what?"

"You were sitting around eating ice cream while I was standing in that line for you?" He sounds a little mad, but he's still holding my hand.

"Did you expect me to stand in the line?"

"Well, you could have joined me."

"I'm pregnant," I tell him, sounding a little righteous myself. Has he forgotten? Those bulging bags of baby stuff ought to be a reminder to him.

"Yeah. And?" Isn't that enough?

"And … I had to go to the bathroom. And I was hungry."

"And tired? And queasy? Dizzy? Did your back hurt? Were your ankles swollen, too?"

"You're doing it again," I say, pulling my hand from his.

"I guess that means I have to buy you dinner, huh?" He asks with a smile.

"I suppose that'll be a start."

"So what's it gonna be?" He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, somewhat reluctantly.

"Guess."

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"What was I talking about at work all night?"

"Um … how you weren't gonna eat that salad I brought for you?"

"Yeah, because it wasn't what I really wanted. Don't you remember what I wanted?"

"I don't know … that burger you made me get you from across the street?"

"No, that's just what I settled for. Not what I really wanted. You don't remember? Weren't you listening?"

"Uh … I don't know. Poptarts? Ice cream? Your weight in Oreos?" A give him the evil eye for that one.

"You better sleep with one eye open," I warn him.

"I'm kidding, I'm just kidding," he says, quickly. He flashes me a reproachful smile, and I decide to let him off the hook.

"I want pizza," I tell him, giving up on the idea of him remembering how I'd gone on and on about my craving for deep dish.

"Dessert pizza?"

"_No_. Regular, deep dish pizza."

"You're not gonna try to cover it in fudge sauce are you? Whipped cream? Syrup?"

"No. That's disgusting. I just want to cover it in pepperoni."

"Which is also disgusting."

"Since when don't you like pepperoni?" I ask him.

"I never said I didn't."

"And _I'm_ the crazy one?"

"You're not crazy, Abby."

"But I might be if I don't get that pizza soon."

"Okay, okay. If you say you want to eat, I'll feed you."

"Now you're learning," I say with approval, leaning against him happily as we make our way down the street.

It doesn't take us long to find an appropriate pizza place where I can get my authentic Chicago style deep dish, but I can't say the same for getting a seat. After an hour, when my eyes start to glaze over, Luka, probably fearing that I'll take a bite out of his arm, goes to talk to, or maybe flirt with, the hostess. But his legendary charm must work because we immediately find ourselves seated in front of a huge basket of breadsticks. I'm dipping my third one in a little hot sauce when Luka finally gets tired of staring at me incredulously in silence.

"So …" he starts, "Do you really want to buy two of everything?"

I swallow hastily. "Well … maybe we won't have to. I didn't realize that there were so many portable things out there. It's not just strollers and playpens that fold up now. Everything does. Swings, bouncy seats, highchairs, bassinets, even bathtubs. You can just fold it and go. It's all so convenient. Like those pack'n';plays. They're a playpen, crib, bassinet, and changing table all in one. They even play music and have mobiles and storage compartments. Who knew? And that stroller with the carseat that just pops in and out. You don't even have to take the baby out. Well, eventually you have to take the baby out. Just not when you're out running errands. Unless you have to feed it or change it, I guess. But if he's sleeping, you don't have to wake him up. Pretty cool, huh?"

He's giving me that look again. The look that says he thinks I might be slightly deranged. "What?" I demand. He just shakes his head. "You think I'm babbling again?"

"No, I just didn't think you'd be this excited about strollers."

"You were the one who got all excited about the pink one."

"I wasn't _excited_. I just thought it was a nice change from all the black and navy blue."

"Uh-huh," I say as skeptically as possible, "So that's your story, huh?"

Just then, the pizza, a beautiful pile of gooey melted cheese and toppings that instantly makes my mouth water, is set down in front of us, and I abandoned my plan to tease Luka about his sudden attraction to all things pink and how it's making me a little suspicious that maybe he's secretly hoping for a girl. Not that I doubt for a moment that he'll be happy either way, I just wonder if deep down he has a preference. As for myself … well, like I told Luka earlier, I do think I might be better with a boy. Not that I exactly prefer a boy, but somehow it seems less intimidating. I think I might know what to do with a boy more than I would with a girl. But …

"Abby? Is something wrong?"

"No. Why?"

"You're not eating. I thought you were gonna rip the pizza right out of the waiter's hands, but now you're just staring at it. Is something wrong with it?"

"No. No, I was just … thinking."

"About baby furniture?"

"Not exactly."

"You never said if you still think we really need to buy two of everything."

"Well, I told you, so much of it is portable and just folds up …"

"So we should just buy one of everything, but it all has to fold? I mean, unless it _is _twins. Then we'll have to buy two of everything that folds."

"It's not twins."

He looks pointedly at my plate, and the enormous piece of pizza that I'm tearing through. "You're sure?"

I don't even dignify that with an answer. I mean, really, what does he expect? I'm trying to grow a whole new person here. If wrestlers have to eat six meals a day to bulk up for the next weight class, shouldn't I have to eat six meals a day to grow a baby? Makes perfect sense to me.

"Well, I've been thinking about it," he says.

"Wrestling?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. What've you been thinking about?"

"Baby furniture?" He says this in the form of a question because maybe I'm just a little bit slow. "I think I might have a solution for the big changing table controversy."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Two possible solutions, actually."

This I've gotta hear. "I'm listening."

"Well, you said it yourself. Those playpens are a little bit of everything. Crib, changing table … so we can just use that to change the baby. In fact, if you think about it, all we really need for the baby is one of those. And the stroller with the carseat. What else do we need? At least to start off with."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. Why do we need to have a crib and a cradle and a changing table, when one piece of equipment can do it all? And it folds up; your favorite feature."

"Yeah, and it'll be great to have in the living room. Convenient for naps and things, but my baby's not sleeping in a playpen its whole life."

"Well, of course not, Abby. When he gets too big for it, we'll have to get him a bed."

"You're not serious. You really want her to spend her whole babyhood sleeping in playpen. God Luka, I'm lucky my mother remembered to feed me, and even I had a crib."

"Who needs a crib? I slept in a laundry basket until I was three."

I can't help but laugh. "You're making this up. You probably didn't fit in a laundry basket when you were three months old, much less three years old."

"Okay, I made it up. Of course, we'll get the baby a crib. But why do we need a cradle?"

"Well, it's smaller. We can put it right next to the bed. Or move it from one room to the other if we need to."

"And the changing table?"

"Well, as the name implies, we need somewhere to _change_ the baby."

"Abby, you're gonna end up changing that baby on the floor, or the bed, or the couch, or wherever else you happen to be. You don't need a special table."

"Yes, but even if you don't change the baby on the table all the time, you still need a place to keep your diapers and wipes and butt paste."

"Butt paste?"

"Yeah. For diaper rash. Somebody's Butt Paste. I forget the name, but it's supposed to work the best."

"And you have to keep it on the changing table?"

"Yes."

"Well, what about one of those dressers with the changing table top added on? You can take it off later and it's just a regular dresser."

"That's your big solution?"

"I think it's a good compromise. You get your changing table, I get a useful piece of furniture."

"But where will I put the diapers and the wipes and the butt paste?"

"In a drawer?" He suggests, sounding a little exasperated.

"Then where will I put the onesies and the nightgowns and the sleepers and socks and mittens and the little hats?"

"They're big dressers, Abby. I think there will be more than enough room."

"Blankets, towels, burp cloths, crib sheets …" I rattle off a few more baby items that we'll need to find a home for too.

"Bottom drawer. Diapers and stuff in the top drawer, clothes in the middle drawer, linens in the bottom drawer. Problem solved. Changing table while the baby's a baby and after that … a regular dresser. That way we don't have to buy something that we'll only use for a couple years, at best."

"Well, you only use the crib for a couple years."

"We can get one of those cribs that turns into a regular bed."

"Now I have to pick a crib that turns into a bed?"

"No, of course you don't have to. It's just suggestions. Ways to be more economical. Especially if we're gonna be buying double of everything. Of course, if we don't have to buy two of everything …"

"You know what," I interrupt quickly before this conversation can go any farther and either turn into a full-blown argument or wander into uncharted territory that I'm not ready to explore, "Can we talk about this later? We've got a while before we have to decide anything, right? And I'm getting tired, so if you're ready to go home …"

"If I'm ready? I was ready a long time ago."

"Then why did we eat here?"

"Because you made me buy you dinner."

"Yeah, I just wanted you to buy me some pizza. I didn't say we couldn't take it home."

"Why didn't you say that two hours ago?"

"I never said I wanted to eat here." He gives me a dark look.

"Then why did we?"

"I don't know." He's looking at me now like he wants to scream. Or maybe like his head is about to explode. But he takes a couple of deep breaths and doesn't say a word. Instead, he goes to pay the check and comes back to retrieve the bags … and me. Once we make our way out of the crowded restaurant, he looks at me and shakes his head. I'm sure he means to convey a sense of disapproval, but I can see the amusement behind the frustration.

"Thanks," I say to him, reaching out to grab his hand. "For … indulging me. You know, the shopping. The cravings. I know you just wanted to stay home and sleep today, and instead you cooked for me, stood in line for me, shopped for me …"

"And carried the bags. Don't forget that."

"And carried the bags," I agree.

"It was my pleasure," he says. "For the most part."

I lean into him, and look up to give him a smile. "Well, as soon as we get home, you can go right to sleep."

"No, I can't."

"Why can't you go straight to bed?"

"Well, I can go straight to bed, but not straight to sleep."

"Oh. I promise I won't keep you awake this time."

"I was kind of hoping you would."

"No, I won't bug you with my crazy ramblings. If I can't sleep, I'll go downstairs. Watch TV or something. Wait, did you say you _wanted_ me to keep you awake?"

"Well, yeah." He looks at me and waggles his eyebrows. I tilt my head, confused. "How quickly you forget. You were gonna make it up to me, remember? From the dressing room," he elaborates when I don't show any signs of recognition.

"Oh, yeah. You're gonna hold me to it, huh?"

"Well, no. Not if you're too tired."

"You were the one who didn't get the beauty sleep you wanted," I remind him.

"I can stand it if you can."

"Well …" I try to sound as noncommittal as possible, but suddenly he's hurrying me down the street, anxious to get home.

When we get there, as soon as we shed our coats and drop our bags, I find myself being hustled off to the bedroom. I'm not complaining, but my bladder is. After all, it's been more than 20 minutes since the last time I peed. And all that sugar-free, caffeine-free soda at dinner probably didn't help. I leave an understandably frustrated Luka with a promise to be right back. I don't think that it's taken me that long to pee, but when I return to the bedroom, I find Luka sprawled on the bed, pretty much where I left him, still dressed. But sound asleep. I walk over to the bed and smile down at him, reaching out to brush the hair back off his forehead. He doesn't even stir. Poor Luka. He must be exhausted, he didn't even take off his shoes. I pull off his shoes and socks, and consider removing his jeans, too. I spend a few moments entertaining wicked fantasies about what I could do after I get his pants off, but in the end he looks so peaceful that I hate to disturb him. Even though there's a part of me that would love to put one of those nasty little fantasies to good use in waking him up, I decide I really should let him get some sleep.

So with a sigh, I cover him up with the blanket and resolve to get some sleep myself. But it's not long after I slip into bed beside him, that my resolve starts to weaken. I find myself unable to get settled, restlessly moving around. My mind is in overdrive again, but this time my thoughts have nothing to do with the baby. There's a decidedly more carnal aspect to them now. I slide a look over at Luka who's still out like a light. In an effort to not be selfish, I figure I'll try just snuggling up next to him, maybe that will help me sleep. Rolling over against him, I cuddle up to him and rest my head on chest. No, that just makes it worse. I flop back over onto my back next to him. I try thinking about chocolate. Calculating how many candy bars I've got stashed around the place. Wondering if there's enough to be an acceptable substitute, but knowing it's not what I really want.

"Luka," I whisper, leaning over him. "You sleeping?" I lean down and kiss his temple. "Luka?"

"Mmm," he mumbles, clearly not at all awake.

I feel bad about this whole thing, but still, I shake him a little bit. "Luka, wake up."

"What?" Still mumbling but a little more coherent.

"Are you gonna wake up?" I stroke his cheek lightly with the back of my finger.

"Mm-hmm. Okay." But his eyes close again.

"Luka?" I try again, this time nibbling on his ear, figuring that should be enough to make my intentions known.

"Not now, Abby."

"You don't want to?"

"Not really." I pull away from him, hurt. He could have let me down a little easier.

"Fine. Whatever." I roll away from him, turning my back to him.

"Okay," he says with a yawn, but otherwise sounding fully awake, "What'll it be this time?" He's sitting up now, rubbing at his eyes.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No, it's okay."

"Well, don't do me any favors."

"No, really. What do you want?" What do you think I want, genius? Or rather, what I _wanted_ since I'm suddenly not in the mood anymore. Those chocolate bars are sounding better all the time.

"Nothing from you," I answer him.

"You're mad?" He sounds … confused, but maybe a little mad … or at least irritated, himself.

"No. Why should I be mad?" I say in a huff. "What do I care? I can just eat two or three candy bars and pass out in a chocolate coma. It's all the same to me, really. I mean, I was hoping for two or three orgasms so I could pass out in a sex coma, but I'll settle for the chocolate. I wanted the sex, but I'll take the chocolate."

"You woke me up for sex?"

"No, Luka, I woke you up for a Scooby-Doo marathon on the cartoon network."

"Sorry. I thought you were just waking me up for a food run. That you were gonna ask me to go get you donuts. And not that I wouldn't have, I was just …"

"Tired? Yeah. I get it. You're tired. I'm sorry I woke you." And I am, in more ways than one, but I probably didn't sound the least bit contrite. I try for a softer, more sincere tone. " Just go back to sleep."

"Where are you going?" He asks as I throw the covers back and get out of bed.

"To get the chocolate."

"Don't do that," he says, reaching out for me as I pass by him.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't think you need to drive your blood sugar any higher." I stick out my tongue at that. "And for another … I'm awake now."

"Too late," I say, pulling out of his grasp.

"Why is it too late?"

"Because … now I want the chocolate."

"What about me?"

"You can have some chocolate, too. Maybe." I tell him as I head out the door.

"That's not what I meant. Hey, come back here." I pause just long enough to give him a mischievous smile. "Abby … you're not gonna make me chase you, are you?"

I don't answer, I just scramble down the stairs and into the kitchen. I've managed to rifle through the freezer just long enough to find one of my stash, when Luka 'catches' me. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling his lips against the crook of my neck.

"You don't really want this, do you?" He asks, removing the candy bar from hand and tossing it on the counter behind us. This time his sultry bedroom voice has nothing to do with being tired. He pulls me away from the freezer and turns me around so he can kiss me. But before he can make contact, I slip out of his embrace and hop up on the counter, retrieving my frozen Snickers.

"Actually, I do want it."

"It's frozen."

"And?"

"And I'm not," he says, closing the gap in between us, moving to stand in front of where I sit on the counter. He runs his hands up my legs, letting them rest on my hips for a moment before drawing me closer to him. I wrap my legs loosely around him, but I'm concentrating more on opening up the Snickers than on the way he's nibbling at my neck..

"You're not chocolate," I point out.

He pulls back from me, and studies me for a minute. "So you woke me up for nothing?"

"No, I told you, I woke you up for sex."

"But now want chocolate instead?" I look him up and down, standing there in the half light of the kitchen barefoot wearing a rumbled t-shirt and jeans that are tight, but not too tight. With his hair disheveled from sleep and his eyes dark with lust, I'm kind of rethinking the whole thing.

"Well, now that you mention it …"

"And you said I'm a tease." He interrupts before I can finish my thought.

I look up from the candy bar that I'm gnawing at. Damn thing's frozen, I can barely manage to get the slightest chunk broken off. Maybe I should try sucking on it, like a popsicle. Luka seems to be watching me intently.

"You're doing that on purpose," he says, watching me work on the chocolate.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"I think you know." He gives me a significant look. Oh. Oh, yeah. I hadn't meant for it to be … suggestive, but with the way he's leering at me, I guess that's how it turned out. "You're just trying to get me all hot and bothered."

"Who? Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"Well, if you're so bothered, you could stop staring at me."

"You're making that difficult … the way you're running around in your underwear and …" He stops talking, seeming to lose his train of thought. Preoccupied by my underwear, I suppose, since he's now staring at my chest. Looking down, I realize that the thin tank top I'm wearing does little to conceal my swollen breasts and protruding nipples.

"I can't help it," I tell him. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Used to having more humble breasts, I'm still getting used to this fuller set, complete with the hard-not-to-notice protrusions, that I've recently acquired. I don't know whose boobs these are, but they certainly don't feel like mine.

"Well, maybe if you wore some clothes …" He doesn't look up to meet my eyes, but I see the lurid grin on his face.

"It doesn't have anything to do with being cold. They're like that all the time these days. But I guess if I wore some clothes, it would be harder for you to leer at me." He lifts his eyes up to meet mine with a sheepish look on his face. "Not that I'm complaining," I tell him. "And I know how much you're enjoying them."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know, Luka. Just because you have your hands up my shirt every chance you get … You're just lucky they're not sore anymore."

"It was all the healing massage," he suggests.

"Right." I see the way he's looking at me again. With definite hunger that has nothing to do with chocolate.

"You know," he says, his voice low and throaty. " I could make you forget all about that candy bar." He unconsciously licks his lips, looking me up and down in a way that's making me grow warm all over. I know that the way my nipples are contracting has nothing to with my lack of clothing or the coldness of the room. On the contrary, it's from the heat we're generating without even touching.

"Oh yeah?" Is my only response, but there's a definite challenge in my tone.

He takes a step toward, eliminating any space between us, and takes my face in his hands, kissing me in way that lets me know he means business. I don't resist when he deepens the kiss. When my toes start to curl is about the time I drop the candy bar on the counter in favor of wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands, surprisingly warm, have predictably found their way under my skimpy tank top already so I'm a little surprised when he suddenly pulls away from and takes a step back, fixing me with a look I can't quite decipher. Before I know what's happening, he's pulled me forward and lifted me over his shoulder, in a fireman's carry, as he turns toward the stairs.

"_Luka!_" I cry out as I find myself suddenly perched on his shoulder, presumably about to be whisked off to the bedroom.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you."

"Who said anything about dropping me? I want you to bring the chocolate."

I can just imagine the eye roll or exasperate look that must cross over his face. But he does pick up my candy bar. "Okay," he tells me, "But you're gonna have to earn it."

Hmm … kinky. I consider the possibilities. But I don't ask him what he has in mind, I just let myself be ferried to the bedroom where he lowers me to the bed. He lays down next to me, reaching out immediately to touch me. He runs his hand along the contours of my body before sliding it under the edge of my shirt to trace lazy circles on my belly. His hand on my belly sparks a thought that quickly preoccupies me. I vaguely feel him shift his weight to bring our bodies into contact. And I automatically wrap my arms around his head as he leaves a trail of kisses from the hollow of my neck down across my breasts.

"Abby," he says, suddenly lifting his head from my chest. "This was your idea, remember? I thought you might like to participate." He takes the opportunity to pull away long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head and lower his jeans.

"Sorry. I was just … thinking."

"Oh, no," he says, disheartened, dropping down on the bed next to me, his head falling onto my shoulder. "Are you mad at me? Do you hate me? Is this some mean practical joke? What did I ever do to you?"

"Besides get me pregnant?"

"You're gonna use that one forever, aren't you?"

"Well, you seduced me in a moment of weakness and got me pregnant. I ought to be able to use it."

"_Seduced_ you?"

"Yeah, sex was certainly the furthest thing from my mind when I came over here. I just wanted to give you a piece of my mind."

"You were upset."

"So that means you should kiss me?"

"I couldn't stand seeing you cry. I wanted you to feel better. I just wanted to doing something."

"Well, you did something all right," I say, patting my slightly rounded belly. "That's what I was thinking about."

"What?"

"That night."

"What night?"

"Luka. _That_ night." I pat my belly again for emphasis.

"Oh, _that_ night. That night we made a baby." He's beaming as he leans over to capture my lips in a soft and sweet kiss.

"Yeah. Somehow tonight was reminding me of that night. I guess the way you just up and kissed me. And then grabbed me and picked me up and hauled me off to the bedroom."

"I didn't grab you and pick you up that night." He sounds unnecessarily indignant.

"Yes, you did. I distinctly remember you carrying me up here."

"That's only because you jumped on me. If you jump into my arms, I have to catch you. "

"I didn't jump into your arms," I protest.

"Sure you did. I kissed you. And then we stood there for a minute. I was waiting to see if you were gonna slap me, but instead you threw yourself at me, literally."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

"Did not." But I can't help cracking a smile. It's all the opening he needs. He quickly has me pinned down, his legs on either side of me, his hands holding my wrists tight against the mattress.

"You did. You did, and you know it," he insists. "Admit it. Don't make me tickle you."

"Okay, okay."

"You have to say it."

"Fine. I threw myself at you. There. Happy?"

"Mm-hmm," he nods and loosens his grip, only to quickly scoop me up and roll me over with him, landing me squarely on top of him. "So that's what you were thinking about? How you threw yourself at me that night?" He brushes the hair back from my face, tucking loose strands behind my ears.

"Not exactly. I was thinking about … sex."

"You could have fooled me."

"Not like that. I mean, I was thinking about how weird it all is. That night, you know, we just had sex. Big deal, right?"

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean. Even though it was noteworthy for several reasons, it was still … a common enough occurrence. I mean, not for us. Not then. But in general … Well, it didn't seem like it was a life-altering event. That night was …"

"Nice?" He supplies. I give him a look of confusion. "That's what you said then," he reminds me.

"It was a lot more than nice. I just … well, back then … I didn't know how you felt about it so I didn't want to, you know, say too much.. But it wasn't just nice, I knew that then. But there was even more to it than I thought as it turns out … But that's what I'm getting at. At the time, I didn't know. I didn't know that anything extraordinary was happening. But it was. You know, there we were sleeping the day away, eating breakfast, going in to work. All the time, having no idea that anything out of the ordinary, much less amazing, was going on. It' so strange, but incredible. I mean, we had sex, and now there's a baby."

He's laughing at me now. "Yeah, Abby. That's kinda how it works."

"I know. And I know it sounds ridiculous. I'm a doctor. I was an OB nurse. I understand how reproduction works. The biology isn't a mystery to me. But I guess until I was in the middle of it, I never really thought about it. I mean, pregnancy was an unfortunate consequence of sex, something to avoid. But now that I've … embraced this pregnancy, I see it differently, you know?" I sigh, and turn my head to rest my cheek on his chest. "It's like … magic." He's stroking my hair, no longer laughing, just listening. "I never really thought about how something so amazing could come out of something so simple. Well, I guess only the act itself is simple. The rest of it … I mean, two tiny little cells, invisible to the naked eye, join together and start growing and it turns into a baby. And this is all nothing I didn't already know, but I guess it's just different when it's happening to you, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Yeah, I guess he would. But that's not something I'm gonna bring up now.

"It's kinda cool, though, don't you think?"

"What? The miracle of life?"

"Well, that. But I was thinking about the fact that we know … you know, when the baby was conceived. Now I look back at that night and it's … special."

"So it _was_ just nice then, but now it's special."

"No, it was special then, too. Now it's just extra special. Knowing it's when we made this baby."

"All that magic taking place, and we had no idea. You just thought it was some nice, no-big-deal sex."

"Luka."

"And it was apparently so unmemorable to you, that you managed to put it out of you mind completely."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you told me that you didn't even consider the possibility that you were pregnant for a long time."

"I didn't have any symptoms. Not really. Okay, so maybe I was a little late."

"A little?"

"Okay, a lot late. But I didn't realize because I was so caught up in what was happening with us. Not because I thought that the sex that night was too mundane to have resulted in a pregnancy. And not because I forgot about that night. Believe me, I didn't. I'm just really good at denial. But I should have known. Even if they're weren't that many signs, I should have known when the coffee started tasting funny. I mean, I could drink it, and I did, but I wondered why it didn't smell as good to me anymore. So I should have known."

"Because of the coffee? Not because you skipped your period or anything."

"Well … I told you, I have a real talent for denial. But I really had no idea. Until all of a sudden it just hit me. I was pretty shocked." I smile, thinking about that day, and what a vast understatement I just made.

"Yeah, I know the feeling. But now I'm even happier that you showed up _that_ night. It was such a miserable day. But something beautiful came out of it. Just having you back in my life was great. But that _that_ night brought this baby into our lives makes it that much more beautiful."

"Funny how that happens. When you least expect it, something you didn't even know you wanted …"

"So you're glad it happened?"

"The baby? Yeah, I'm glad the baby happened. Still a little overwhelmed. Still terrified. And I still think the whole thing is pretty crazy. But I'm happy."

"Me, too."

I lift my head up, propping myself up so that I can give him a mischievous grin. "I'm really glad that you seduced me and knocked me up."

He narrows his eyes at me in mock anger. "Okay, that's it. Now you're in trouble."

"For making slanderous remarks and ruining your good name?" He nods slowly. "So what are you gonna do to me?"

"I'm gonna make you pay," he says, rolling me back over to my back, his weight pinning me down as his lips seek out mine.

As I happily return the kiss, I think that this is the kind of payment that I'm really going to enjoy.


End file.
